The Butterfly Sessions of Alfred F Jones
by freezinginbristol
Summary: Alfred had always wanted to find a way to prove himself to be better. Matthew just didn't think this would have been the American people's way of making his brother into something they wanted. [FACE Family]
1. Chapter 1

**I DO NOT OWN HETALIA:AXIS POWERS**

He mentions it on a Tuesday.

It's raining, and the two of them sit in Matthew's car, waiting for the lights to change at the intersection in a rare moment of silence before the words of "advancement placing" enters into the quiet space from his brother's mouth.

"Would you like to be more specific?"

America shrugs, leaning down in the passenger seat slightly as he stares out the window and for a flash of a second Matthew can practically see the words in his brother's brain of "he'll think you stupid" and gives him a slight smile, along with a warning glare of even thinking of doubting him for a second. Alfred uncoils from his hesitant positon and turns his blue eyes back onto the road in front of them.

"It's a branching from Congress as a new technique to train potential workers in my government. They'll say it'll make passing things and coming to conclusions on bills a lot faster." Alfred explains.

Matthew nods his approval. "Do they want anything from you in the meantime? This is obviously new, right?" The light in front changes, and he takes his foot off the break and onto the accelerator to move forward and turn into a new line of road. Alfred hums, fingers moving up to his mouth to chew on his nails, before his brother's hand moves from its place on the steering wheel to stop his actions.

"I wanted to see how it worked first before they let it known to any potential takers. It won't take long, two weeks at the very least."

He gives a quick look at his sibling, blue eyes curious. "What do you think?"

Matthew pauses for a second, contemplating the course of actions before the words come out. "Go for it."

 _Go for it._

 _Go for it_

 _Go-_

* * *

The letters stop coming on a Tuesday.

It's been two weeks, four days, thirty seven minutes, and a part of him wonders where he got this sudden paranoia from. He relays the news to his parents, a bundle of hidden nerves and fear as to exactly why in the world his brother would be talking of places they've never been, people they've never met, experiences that had never happened. History and sorrow are more kind with dark blue and green eyes that stain his childhood than anyone at his brother's office, who come with the same blaring words of 'No, Mr. Jones is not in the office, can I take a message?'

It's been three weeks, eighteen days, forty five minutes, and he feels like a times the situation is happening to someone else. Like someone took out what made Matthew Williams himself and walked around like a ghost in his body. He wakes at night and the confession comes in a shaky rush of French to his parents at two in the morning that he can't feel Alfred anymore.

It's been four weeks and-

Seven weeks and it's like his entire government has been shut up with no warning and

Ten weeks and it takes more threatening than not to ask everyone at the world meeting if they had anything to do with his disappearance and it's been like hell

Thirteen weeks and Canada swears God is playing some sick joke on him at the ringing of his phone at two in the morning with the rush of "tickets, package, _we found him_ , plane" before he's finding himself out of bed and on a plane to Massachusetts.

Their various homes across each of their land masses have specifics as a sort of "family house" and he drops his bag at the door with a polar bear wandering into the living room and making quick work of chewing the furniture and moves up the stairs with the idea of relief and "dear God, I'm going to murder him" before stopping at the sight of his brother in the bed, chest rising and falling with England's fingers running through his hair.

France's eyes meet his son's and he almost doesn't catch the object tossed to him, the black video with the scrawling of **A. Jones- Session 1** on the top in the white space.

* * *

 **A. Jones Session 1 Excerpt**

 _"-And you like school?"_

 _The nineteen years old smirks slightly, granting a small chuckle from the unseen man whose back is only partly seen from the camera. "Or whatever you would do when not working."_

 _Alfred nods. "I do," his brow furrows slightly before the words come out, "sometimes, things move a little slowly for me."_

 _"I imagine they do. What's your favorite subject?"_

 _"I'm finding physics a challenge."_

 _"You're in the graduate program already." The man sounds slightly surprised. "Top universities," he checks the files in front of him, "Harvard, Yale."_

 _"They call me little eagle." America says with a smile. The irony is almost palpable._

 _"Do you think they're jealous because you're so young?" The man uses air quotes around the last word, granting a laugh from the boy in front of him before sobering. He rubs the back of his neck, before adjusting his glasses. "Walter is a little. He plans to become very important."_

 _"Did he tell you he was jealous?"_

 _"Oh no, I just-"_

 _"You feel it."_

 _America cocks his head. "People tell you things all the time without talking. The way they move. The way they aren't talking."_

 _"You're very intuitive."_

 _"Mattie says I was born with half a third eye, saying he got the bigger half. I guess he's right about that, though. To be honest." It's as if the very mention of his siblings brings something warmer to his face. "He hates it when I say what he's thinking."_

Canada flinches at the mention of his name.

 _"Your brother-"_

 _"Twin."_

 _"You prefer that?"_

 _America shrugs. "More natural I suppose. Two before anything else was assigned, right?"_

 _The man nods. "Your twin, he's a political figure as well?"_

 _"He's a language interpreter for major ambassador meetings, all over the world, not just in Canada. You know, when he's not working."_

 _"Quite a family."_

 _America nods. "He's a genius when it comes to bringing things out for people. I could never do what he does."_

 _"I think you could do whatever you put your mind to. That's what the world needs, what this institute is all about. Your mind. Letting it do everything it could. Does that sound like something you'd be interested in?"_

 _America pauses, fingers tracing invisible patterns on the desk between him and the figure, before looking up with a hopeful smile. "Would I still be allowed to-"_


	2. Chapter 2

**I DO NOT OWN HETALIA:AXIS POWERS**

 _November_ 2015_

 _Hey Mattie_

 _Sorry it's been so long but they have me working hard here. The tests are going well, as much as I can see, and the doctors here seem to be pleased with whatever it is they're finding in my brain as regards to politics and such. I'm glad you pushed me to do this. You're even more awesome than you let the world think._

 _I think you and I are going to be a force of nature._

 _Love You,_

 _Alfred F. Jones_

* * *

 _November_ 2015_

 _I think there's something up with the way we used to do things Matt, because sometimes it feels like there are nothing but bugs crawling underneath my skin and I keep asking them to take them out, but it's not as important as the bigger stuff we're doing. I'm tired._

 _Hey, do you remember that giant apple grove in France's house from when we were little and we could never reach the very top? And I'm so upset I can't grab the apple that you want._

 _Sorry about that._

* * *

 _November_2015_

 _Mattie I think it's two fifteen here and it feels like I've not been sleeping without you in my head. They tell me I can't block things out, that I have to let them know everything I see but-_

 _Stick a needle in the body politic._

 _Mattie, do you think Washington and England left me in the same fashion? If that's God's plan or even if it was, I think at this point I'd make a better Judas than Simon Peter to anyone but you._

 _I miss you._

* * *

 _No_2105 no 2015_

 _I worry about you without me Mattie._

 _It's selfish yes, but semPer fi am I right we have to stay together but now I feel like I'll just end up drAgging you down with me IN the water._

 _It might be best to let it go._

* * *

 _0123456789 Novem_2015_

 _Mattie waves roll low and the waves roll high so it goes under the bright blue endless sky waves try to measure the days that we treasured with hello and then goodbye do you remember that with the sea and night sky when there was nothing but fish and fire with her_

 _I can't-_

 _mattie sorry my brain can't go you said so_

 _muchness lost my muchness like raven and a writing desk 678910 paces to a shot fuck me fuck you I can't see-_


	3. Chapter 3

**I DO NOT OWN HETALIA:AXIS POWERS**

 _He opens his eyes from fish swimming in his brain to the sight of the space of a dark night sky littered with stars._

 _The eagle overhead gives a sharp, shrill cry, and he can feel it pierce through him like a knife, like a shot in the dark of wherever he was. Or whatever he was. He looks again out in the large field, and watches the shapes of two young boys who were like him and another but not like them at all._

 _The sight makes him unsure whether to laugh or cry._

 _He screams._

* * *

He opens his eyes from fish swimming in his brain to the sight of a the space of a dark night sky-no.

Hair like sunshine brushing against his fingers, and for the first time in weeks, fatigues violet eyes meet a dull blue. Something of a strangled laugh comes out the older twin's throat, and Alfred isn't sure where to put his hands with the other nation gripping him in a hug.

Why did this body feel so unnatural?

Still, there is something innate, something intimate in the back of his mind, and the low, abject whimper comes out, shifting to bury his face as best he could into Matthew's neck. Breaths in his hair and America listens to the low drumming of his heartbeat before speaking in a rush of French.

"J'ai même si vous n'avez pas- "

 _I thought you didn't-_

 _"_ Vous êtes stupide de penser que je m'arrêtais à la recherche pour vous."

 _You're stupid to think I would stop looking for you._

It takes the persuasions (more like orders) from France to move from his brother's side nearly two hours later and actually get some proper sleep in a real bed. The man with green eyes like something out of Camelot, moves to check the IV drip in his system a few minutes later, offering his finally awake son a slight smile. England puts a stop to the questions they both want to ask, singing softly and running his fingers through the younger nation's hair.

 _Oh, the waves roll low_

 _And the waves roll high_

 _So it goes_

 _Under the bright, blue, endless sky_

 _Waves try to measure_

 _The days that we treasured_

 _With hello and then goodbye_

The actions of England never failed to put either of his sons to sleep and within a minute America is out like a light, chest rising and falling as he fell deeper into his own subconscious. England smiles softly, fingers brushing back the hair from his former colony's forehead before pausing at the twinge in the back of his mind. His hand moves, hovering over America's forehead as he focused his efforts to that feeling in his gut.

 _What-_

 _12345678910pacesfireburni'msorryi'msorryyoushouldn'thavehadanythingtodowithfieldswashingtonmadeafooloutofapplesintheorchadmakeitstopstopstopstopstopstopSTOP-_

The hand on his shoulder brings him out of his sudden flash of information, and he balances himself on France, shaking his head at the rush of emotions he had just seen for only a moment. Green eyes meet blue for a moment before both parents look down at the sleeping America and England speaks.

"Call the others."


	4. Chapter 4

**I DO NOT OWN HETALIA:AXIS POWERS**

 _Dedicated to Simply-A-Writer and silverheartlugia2000 who helped me write this chapter! You two are amazing!_

* * *

 **A. Jones Session 22 Excerpt**

 _He's looking down at the table, gaze unfocused. His bomber jacket and gloves are gone for trade with a simple white shirt and jeans._

 _"But you understand why these treatments are important?"_

 _His head comes up. "I don't think-"He pauses, scratching his head. "I'm sorry." Another pause. "I think there's been an error. I think I may not be the right subject for these-"America bites his lip. "This program."_

 _"It's perfectly natural to feel a little nervous-"_

 _"I just- if it were possible to be transferred, I would make a- I would like to request a transfer."_

 _The man's voice is emotionless. "You want to be back in Gen Ed?"_

 _"Please." His voice is a whisper._

 _"You told us that was no good for you. It was too slow, that's why you're here."_

 _America nods in affirmation, gaze flickering from the man's face back down to the table. "Please." The words are said softly, gaze on the table. "It…hurts."_

 _The man sighs. "Well, I can help you with that. You know how proud Dr. Matthias is on how you're progressing-"_

 _America's head snaps up. "I'm not progressing-"_

The screen flickers with buzz for a moment before coming back into focus.

 _His gaze is somewhere to the left, as if looking at something far away. "It's the backs."_

 _"Tell me what you see."_  
 _"You lost the first one. You cut too deep. He died on the table." A slight smile spreads on his face, as if remembering something humorous. "One of your attendants cried and you comforted her." His body turns, eyes to the man now before his voice shifts, sending a chill down the attendants watching the videos. "We're doing such good work."_

 _He blinks, confusion on his face before rubbing at his nose, wiping at it and looking at his clean fingers in speculation as the man began to speak. "Do you understand that is true? The work we do here is very important and you're a part of that."_

 _America's head comes up slowly, finger's still rubbing against each other. "I would like to see my brother."_

 _"Well, you can write to him anytime you like-"_

 _"I need to."_

The pure desperation in the nation's voice sends a thrust of pain into Matthew's heart, and he exhales the breath he hadn't realized he had been holding. France sends him a questioning look, to which he ignores.

 _America blinks, taking in a ragged breath, before unconsciously rubbing the scar on the back of his neck again. "I would like please to see him."_

 _The figure sighs. "Well I'm sure he's very busy."_

 _America's demeanor is a huff of defeat and the rubbing of the scar ceases as he nods slowly. "Yes. I'm sure he is."_

Matthew feels the pain like an aftereffect, moving from some lone force and catching on their link before slamming into him. The sensation is enough to make him keel over before the unfiltered thoughts from his brother come through.

 _StoppleaseicantseeivetoldyouenoughwhysickcanyoupleasestopmattiemattiematttiePLEASEMATTIEMAKEITSTOP_

By the time the crash and thump is heard above, he and his parents are already up the stairs, coming through the door to the sight of the IV out of his wrist and leaning awkwardly on the bed, while somewhere in the dim light he can see the crumpled form of his brother up against a corner on the far side of the room.

America is shaking.

The muttering is heard from here, and as his brother takes a step forward, he whimpers, fingers digging into his hair and threatening to pull them out by the roots. Matthew moves closer then, reaching out to his brother by both mouth and mind.

 _Shh...Al it's okay. You're okay._ Canada reaches up to turn on the bedside lamp, the sudden change of visuals making them both wince before he frowns at the sight of fresh bruises on his brother's wrists.

America jerks again, curling deeper in himself before his hand reaches to his mouth to bite the web of skin between his thumb and forefinger.

Matthew gently caught his brother's hands, keeping them away from his mouth. _Al... Please? Just look up, its me and Dad and Papa, no one else..._

He's fidgeting more now, fighting against his brother's grip. "You man, _you animal_ , you man. Put needles in my eyes and you dare to ask me what I see!" his voice is enraged, before his brother practically pulls him into his lap, Al's legs suddenly uncurling and wrapping around his brother's waist. "No more of that, young sir, no more of that." his voice switches now to something or someone impossibly younger. "I'll be the best. Better than anyone else- god. I'm sorry. _I'm sorry. I'll be quiet."_

"It's okay, no one is angry," Matt did all he could do - sit and hold his brother, swaying gently. "No one is angry, Al, I promise... Make as much as you want, we don't mind."

Alfred's fingers curl into the material of his brother's shirt, before his face presses into his shoulder and gives a low groan. *Head* he thinks wearily to his brother before slumping and almost making the other nation fall over due to the shift in gravity. Matthew sighs, running his fingers through America's hair and stealing a glance at his parents, who are across the room, whispering in low tones. By the sounds of it, it definitely wasn't in modern English, and of the few occurrences he had to hear his parents speak in their parent's tongues was when his father had left him in his colonial days, all the while trying to doge the various assortments of plates Arthur kept throwing at him. Now, however, the sound Gaulish and Gaelic moving over one another in some sort of twisted music is due to his brother meaning whatever was happening, it wasn't good.

Even without being able to understand their words though, he could feel the tension growing between them... What were they discussing?

"Parents?" Matthew asks, before both of their eyes move to him. "Want to tell me what exactly is wrong with my brother?" England casts a look at France before speaking, "Tá sé an-chasta, toisc nach bhfuil againn go díreach nó aici faoin-"

'English, Dad." Matthew says with a tired smile. "Modern English at least."

England frowns, realizing his error and switches to the correct language. "We don't exactly know what's wrong with him. I have an assumption that may be... _deeper rooted_. We'll need some help."

"Help from who?" Matt's arms tightened protectively whether he noticed it or not. He didn't want just anyone coming in and stressing his twin out.

"Calm yourself, mon fils." France's voice brings clarity and calm to the situation. "It will most likely be Scotland and Ireland, if we can get her."

Matthew frowns. "Where would Aunt Molly be?"

France opens his mouth to speak before earning a not so subtle glare and jab in the ribs from England, but thankfully enough their son had gone back to looking over his now exhausted brother. "Busy." England says hurriedly, before clearing his throat. "We should get him back into bed," he says gesturing towards Alfred. The nation gives a sharp whine when they try to pry him from his brother's position.

"He won't sleep without me." Matthew states, and even the look he's giving both his parents is a mixture of pleading and no room for any other suggestions of how to separate the two of them.

They would just have to stay together for now. Arthur needed to go and call his siblings anyway, so what harm could it do? If anything, it might save Alfred some of his troubled dreams to have someone familiar close by again.

That doesn't stop the circling in his brain, even after they close the door on their now sleeping sons and head downstairs.


	5. Chapter 5

_**This story is now officially a collaboration with Simply-A-Writer and silverheartlugia2000! Thank you guys for your ideas and help! I don't think this story could have continued without them! Go and check our their other works on their account pages! I'm sure they'd appreciate it! :)**_

 ** _Note: Celts are of the wonderful mind of Simply-A-Writer. Animal spirits for all characters are from silverheartlugia2000. Plotline and planning for story is mine._ **

**WE DO NOT OWN HETALIA:AXIS POWERS**

* * *

By the time he opens his eyes again, there's sunlight coming in from the window.

Matthew makes a move to shut the curtain, but the grumble coming from the form beside him begs to differ. Al whines when his brother shifts, and Matt runs his fingers through the boy's hair, hushing him softly, before the words come through their link _needle needle needle like needle into a bug a needle into a bug nightlight gotta snap snap snap snap it into his skull_ and he lifts back the covers to the sight of his brother frantically scratching at the inside of his elbow, now breaking skin and prompting a thin line of crimson to run down his arm.

Shit.

 _Al, wake up. You're okay._ Canada soothes, shaking his brother slightly. Alfred yelps the words he's thinking growing louder and louder in intensity before he jerks upright, nearly colliding heads with his brother. Matt barely pulled back in time to avoid it, gripping Al's shoulders to hold him steady.

Al fought for a few moments underneath his brother's grip, mind slowly calming itself down before his eyes actually opened, a dark sea of blue and confusion. His eyes flicker down to his brother's arm and lets go of it aburptly, scooting away from him. _I'm sorry, I'm sorry sorry sorry i hurt you I-_ The bruise of Matt's arm had already turned a slight shade of purple.

 _No, shush, it's ok. You're okay, Alfie, I'm ok, everyone's safe now. It's fine._ Matt reached out before he retreats too far and pulls him close again.

America buries his face into his brother's shirt front, crying softly and hearing the steeady rhythm of Matthew's heartbeat in his ear. _It's in the backs. They cut too deep and you died on the table and I couldn't-_ he breaks off again, fingers moving back to his previous actions and furiously scratching at the skin on the inside of his elbow, nails running over the dozens of injection marks, dark against his pale skin.

Matt frowns grabbing his hands. _Don't, you'll just make it worse... It was just a dream, Al. I'm still here, I'm fine._

It's only in the dim aftermath that he feels his brother gingerly lead him to the bathroom, and sit him on the toilet seat before rummaging underneath the sink and pulling out the first aid kit. One hand gently grasps his arm and extends it, exposing the numerous injection marks fully to Matthew's eyes. Alfred whines slightly at the rage he feels from his brother.

His hands remained steady through out cleaning and bandageing the area, even as his mind rumbled like thunder. Once properly wrapped, the northern brother hugs Alfred close to his chest again. Reasuring, protective and possesive all at once.

Al flinches slightly, and one hand unconsciously moves back to his shoulder blades, almost like wings, to rub at the place of where his wings would be. Eagle wanted out, away from Matt, but Al felt conflicted. Anger wasn't something either of then could take at the moment, but only one of them needed the safety and security their could provide.

Matt softens with a heavy sigh, _Easy, Alfred. The sky isn't very happy today anyway. Just rest for now and we can go tomorrow._

 _I'm sorry._ Al thinks to his sibling, and moves closer at the protective feelings moving off of his twin and to him. _I made you mad and-_

 _No, no not you. Not you at all._

 _I did and you hate me you hate me-_ Al begins to ramble again, hand curling in his hair to stop the noises and voices inside of his brain telling him to _die die die he hates you he hates you he hates you_

"Stop, stop." Matt takes his hands gently. _Al, I don't hate you. I never have and I never will. Whatever happened to you is over, alright? Just you, me, Dad and Papa now._

America's eyes lift to meet his, blue depths now cloudy with fear and unshead tears. "You think that when the guns stop firing, you can't smell the smoke? Can't see them all, lying there and you're the one who made it happen? I'm the one who pulled the trigger. No one else." His brother pulls him closer then, running a hand up and down his back.

 _No one else._

* * *

 **A. Jones Session 22 Excerpt**

 _He's looking down at the table, gaze unfocused. His bomber jacket and gloves are gone for trade with a simple white shirt and jeans._

 _"But you understand why these treatments are important?"_

 _His head comes up. "I don't think-"He pauses, scratching his head. "I'm sorry." Another pause. "I think there's been an error. I think I may not be the right subject for these-"America bites his lip. "This program."_

 _"It's perfectly natural to feel a little nervous-"_

 _"I just- if it were possible to be transferred, I would make a- I would like to request a transfer."_

 _The man's voice is emotionless. "You want to be back in Gen Ed?"_

 _"Please." His voice is a whisper._

 _"You told us that was no good for you. It was too slow, that's why you're here."_

 _America nods in affirmation, gaze flickering from the man's face back down to the table. "Please." The words are said softly, gaze on the table. "It…hurts."_

 _The man sighs. "Well, I can help you with that. You know how proud Dr. Matthias is on how you're progressing-"_

 _America's head snaps up. "I'm not progressing-"_

"Pause."

His hand moves into the pocket of his jeans, pulling out a packet of cigarettes and a lighter. The smoke exhales from his lungs and Arthur bites his tongue to keep from telling off his brother not to smoke in the house, but he's even too tired to think about that. Iain's eyes are trained on the video in front of them, moving from his leaning place against the couch.

"Well?" England presses, granting a side eye from his sibling, who takes another drag.

"Well yourself," the Scotsman scoffed, smoke trailing from his mouth like an angry dragon. "What the fuck is this "emergency" you dragged me out here for, hmm?"

"Emergency?!" England sputters and France can feel a fight coming on before turning from his position on the couch to face the two of them before speaking. "England, calm yourself."

"Aye, calm yourself," Iain rolled his eyes irritably. "Wouldn't do to have you blowing up with your wee ones upstairs."

England scowled, crossing his arms but nonetheless not saying anything else. France smirks slightly as his husband's behavior before gesturing back to the film again. "He hasn't been sleeping. Not well at least. Nightmares but he won't tell us what about. Not even Matthew can really figure them out either." France explains to the Scot.

"Alright," his gruffnesss lessened some and Francis spoke. "And what do yah want me to do about it?"

France shrugs, rubbing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose in slight exhaustion. "See if he'll let you in."

* * *

The knock on the door makes Al jump slightly from his place in his brother's arms and Matt relaxes slightly at the sight of his uncle in the doorway.

"You alright, bud?" Iain had always found it hard to be angry with the twins, regardless of what they did. He offered them a soft smirk, sliding into their room. "Mind if I join you?"

Matthew shrugs, body language still wary of anyone who came into their space, though Scotland had more than proved himself to be a loyal member of his family. Al whines again with Matt shifting his attention and he sends waves of reassurance through their link. "He keeps getting bad dreams. Can't make sense of then most of the time." Canada comments to Iain, smoothing down his brother's hair.

The Scotsman perched on the end of their bed, relaxed and calm. "Tell me about it?"

Canada bites his lip, before the words come out slowly. "I don't know. It's nonsense most of the time. He keeps telling me that it's his fault, but I don't know if it's this or something else." His hand gently takes his brother's arm, pulling back the bandage slightly to show the darkened needle entry point underneath, still slightly raw from Al's scratching.

Iain frowned and learned over, reaching for the puncture mark. "May I?"

Al filches again, body curling slightly as Matthew runs a hand up and down his back. Scotland moves his fingers lightly over the mark, pressing lightly to which America gives a slight hiss of discomfort, and he takes that moment to quickly look inside- _hurts hurts hurts he wants to kill us murderer from the start kill yourself kill yourself kill yourself kill yourself_ \- Matthew looks up in concern as his uncle steps back from the onslaught of information, looking fairly confused.

"Iain? Iain, what is it?" Canada says, trying to keep his worry from Alfred.

Scotland hesitates for a moment, teeth biting the inside of his cheek as he deliberates his choice of actions. The seconds pass by before he blinks, giving a tight smile to the Canadian, who doesn't look convinced. "I have a hypothesis, but I'll need to talk it over more with Arthur first." He stops again, frowning at the young nation. "Have you eaten?"

The grumbling of Matthew's stomach answers the question and he gives a slight shake of his head. "I didn't want to leave him." He gestures to Alfred, who had managed himself back into something of a sleeping state with the feeling of his brother's fingers running through his hair. Iain gives a slight smile at the sight before standing up. "Won't do any good if you're as thin as him. I'll ask Francis to make some soup." He moves over to the doorway before the words are shot at him in the form of a question from Matthew.

"He's going to be okay, right?"

Scotland gives another tight smile, and the realization of his nephew's condition is still in the back of his brain before he answers the younger nation.

"That's what we're aiming for."

* * *

Miles away, the conference table full of men glance impassively over the assortment of files in front of them before one speaks, voice crisp despite the clarifying question.

"Are you sure this will work?"

At the head, a cold pair of brown eyes flicker across the file again, tracing the name of Alfred F. Jones with one manicured fingernail, smirking slightly to himself. At the rate things were going, the best thing their nation needed was a bit of incentive. If anything, everything was going according to the way their entire organization wanted it. The man picks up the pen, signing on the bottom line underneath the bolded letters of **MARYLIN** on the top right corner before speaking again, lips curling in a smirk.

"For the sake of our developing Americana," he says, before laughing as he tosses the file aside, opening the small compartment of cigarettes and lighting it, taking a heavy drag before the answer curls through the air in a haze of smoke and nicotine.

 _"Send in the beasts."_


	6. Chapter 6

**_Thank you Simply for helping me write this chapter. Celts belong to Simply. Plotline and the shit that happened to Alfred is mine._ **

**WE DO NOT OWN HETALIA:AXIS POWERS**

* * *

 _"Are you sure-"_

 _"Well I'm not the one with every answer. You know we can't-"_

 _"Of course we know that or we wouldn't be here. Close the window tighter."_

 _His teeth dig into his lip, almost drawing blood and he wonders why his hands are so cold on a summer day before his head lifts at a weight sitting beside him. "We apologize for all the inconveniences, my boy. I know this must be difficult for you." Benjamin smiles._

 _"Difficult for him-" begins Adams before Franklin shoots him a glare. He smiles at his men, the feeling giving something of a sharp pain in his chest before he speaks. "The headache will pass, once everything is sorted."_

 _A squeeze of the shoulder and all heads lift at the man coming in from the other room, eyes focused on the handful of papers and muttering under his breath._

 _"Sir-""You needn't be so formal, Hamilton. We're all doing the same duty." His eyes move to glance at the young boy sitting amongst them all and gives him a rare and warm smile._

 _"Must we-" he stops, and bites his lip again as all eyes turn to him. "We meddle."_

 _"Alfred?"_

 _"We're telling them what to do, what to think. Don't run. Don't walk. We're in their homes and in their heads and we haven't the right."_

 _Washington smiles, setting down the collection of papers onto the table. "My boy, we're not telling them what to think." His footfalls are heavy as he comes to him, bending down and balancing on the balls of his feet in front of him. One hand moves up to brush the hair from his face and he smiles, teeth gleaming. **"We're just showing them how."**_

 _The letter opener sticks into his head like he was nothing but blood and pain._

* * *

"We can't keep him here," France points from across the living room table. "The best solution would be to take him out of the country."

"Yes, but where?" England asks, pinching the bridge of his nose in exhaustion. "If anything, the effect of his symptoms might, I repeat, _might_ diminish from where he is outside of his own land, but we can keep him in one place for only so long and-"

England hesitates, before the adults' eyes turn to the figure almost all the way down the stairs, his bare feet barely making a sound as he steps into the living room, tracing the threshold with one finger.

"Alfred, love, what are you doing up?" England asks. His son blinks, rubbing at the inside of his elbow over the bandages.

"I was dreaming. Head, I-" he stops, brow slightly furrowed before he goes back to tracing the wall with a finger.

"What about?" France presses gently. America frowns, tapping now against the light surface.

"Bugs."

He moves again, sinking down onto the couch and tucking himself against England, face burying itself into the material of his shirt. England sighs, carding his fingers through the boy's hair before turning his eyes back to his brother. "Where's Molly?"

"Last I knew, she was on her way over," the Scotsman shrugged. "Didn't tell me when she landed. I imagine she won't be long now."

England nods at that, stealing another glance at the boy curled beside him, who lets out a slight groan in his fitful sleep. "This isn't going to be easy. His government is probably keeping more tabs on him than we think, so we may have to change houses before actually leaving."

"I could always just punch our way through," Iain smirked at his brother, not entirely joking. Politicians were among the few things that infuriated him to the point of violence.

"Honestly, that suggestion doesn't seem like such a bad idea," England muses, before sobering at the slightly disapproving glance from France, though he knew it only be partially true. Both nations would have no problem killing anyone or anything that offered serious harm to their sons, and this was no exception.

Iain got up, pacing irritably. Waiting was wearing on his nerves.

"We'll have to leave soon. And quickly." France states. "Most likely we can stay for a day at the most before packing, knowing this." He glances at the Scot. "Can Molly get here in a few hours?"

"I'll call her," Iain mumbled, stepping out as he pulled out his phone. It took time to cross an ocean, but time was some thing they didn't have

"We're leaving?" England and France's heads turn to Matthew at the bottom of the stairs, who looks even more exhausted than they do. He moves to the couch, settling himself beside France and cuddling against him. "Will it work?"

France gives a tight smile, and drops a kiss in his son's hair, breathing in his scent of drowsiness and cold weather as of to have some sort of solid ground. "Not harm in trying I suppose." he says, meeting his son's worked eyes. His thumb gently sweeps underneath his eye, over the almost purple bruises and he wonders how much sleep either of them had actually had in the past few days.

"You should sleep." England comments, giving a tired smile to Canada, who sighs at the suggestion, biting his bottom lip as he glanced at his brother.

"I don't-" he begins before France laughs slightly. "He'll be here when you wake up, but now, you should see if you can get some real sleep." He presses his lips against Matthew's forehead before shifting, moving up with Arthur, who drapes a blanket over them both and disappears to some part of the house whilst his bleary eyes watched Francis move to the kitchen, leaning against the countertop whilst Iain was speaking into a telephone.

 _Close your eyes. If only for a second-_

* * *

It was an hour after making the call that there finally came a knock on the door. The noise was almost whisked away by the strong wind whipped up outside.

France moves over to open it, seeing the small form of his sister in law on the threshold, looking cold but otherwise happy to see him. She slipped inside, her cheeks pink, hair wild. "Why is there never nice weather when I come over?"

France shrugs, helping her with her coat before enveloping her in a hug. "Thank you for getting here under such short notice."

"Not a problem," she hummed, soaking in his body heat for a moment. "You know I'd do anything for the boys."

Francis smiles slightly at that, leading her over into the living room where the two boys were still sleeping.

She went straight to the twins, kneeling beside them. "What's wrong with them then? Iain was pretty vague..."

"Oi!"

"Took you long enough, Molly." England grumbles, before hugging his sister tightly. "We were close to sending Scotland Yard after you."

"Ah, I'm not too late to go home again," she rolled her eyes, hugging him back for a moment before getting back to business. "Someone fill me in?"

England's grin falters, looking back at his sons before addressing his sister. "You may want to sit down for this."

* * *

From his place at the kitchen table, France wonders if Molly is going to break anything else in their kitchen. His eyes move from the pacing female to the increasing shards of glass on the floor; that was somehow a miracle neither of the boys woke up to the sounds.

"...and the rip their heads off," she'd been ranting for a while now. "How dare they treat them so poorly?! How dare they?!"

England rubs his temples to quell the incoming migraine before speaking. "Molly, would you be so kind as to not break anymore plates? They are still sleeping."

Molly glared at him, picking up a dish instead, launching it across the room. "Happy?"

Both nations are on the verge of fighting each other across the dinner table. France can practically see the stirrings of magic on both their fingertips before he puts a firm hand on both their shoulders and forces them down in their seats. "If it hasn't occurred to either of you, we have two extremely violate nations sleeping on the couch, and most of us haven't gotten any sleep for the past week. Now if you two could provide some helpful insight instead if being at each others' throats, that would be very much appreciated!"

There is silence for a few moments, before both nations huff and sit down in their seats.

France sighs, rubbing his eyes before speaking, voice calmer. "You and I both know this isn't normal like the other continuum points. If we can even call it that. Every minute, every hour, shows his mind is working deeper and deeper into the levels of his subconscious and finding more and more trauma."

"More trauma?"

France nods, folding his hands. "I have reason to believe this continuum wasn't an isolated event. But that aside, we need to get them both away from this region."

"They need to get away from the arse holes that are effectively poisoning them," Molly folded her arms across her chest, leaning back in her chair. "They need time to heal their minds and bodies before fighting the corruption in their homes."

"We need to get the both of them out of this region and somewhere else, as Matthew's feeding off of his brother's nerves and Alfred..." France bites the inside of his cheek, stopping himself. He steals a glance at the living room again before leaning closer to both Molly and Iain. "He could only end up getting worse."

"We can take them to my cottage," Molly suggested. "It's in the middle of nowhere and my weather is picking up some. The air is clean and no one will find us or bother us."

"It's still cold."

All the adults whirl around at the sight of Alfred standing in the doorway, before his brother comes behind him, still slightly drowsy. "Yes, Alfred, but it's picking up. Do you understand your part in all this, love?" England says gently.

Alfred's brow furrowed, before leaning back against his brother, who presses his nose into his hair. "Yes," he says softly, burying his face into his brother's shirt front. "We're going for a ride."


	7. Chapter 7

**Idea for this story is mine, spirit animals are silverheartlugia2000's, Celts are Simply-A-Writer's, and this chapter is all of ours!**

 **WE DO NOT OWN HETALIA:AXIS POWERS**

Night fell around the house, bringing with it a sense of serenity and peace. A light wind rustled the dry branches outside, whispering to the stars in the clear sky above.

Beneath, treading cautiously through the undergrowth, a group of men were closing in around the lonely house just outside of the city. They shared glances as they surrounded the building, all of them waiting for the signal that would send them rushing inside.

Alfred blinks, turning to face his brother who was fast asleep, before slipping out of bed. He moves down the hall, bare feet barely making a sound before freezing at the sound of his uncle's voice.

"I wouldn't go near the windows if I were you, bud," he spoke quietly, but it sounded like a shout in the too still night. "Well have company soon enough..."

America blinks, not turning around. "Can you feel them? Static in the brain if you cut too deep."

"What...?" Iain could sense the auras of creatures around him, sense their intentions, but he didn't have a clue what his nephew was saying.

"We'll need to trim the edgework." America moves again, over to the far wall and taps his finger lightly before moving past his uncle, "Call me if anyone interesting shows up, " before moving into the dark and to some unseen part of the house.

"Problem?" England says from his room, watching his son move down the corridor.

"Alfred is giving himself a personal tour of lala land and we have guests coming from all angles," Iain followed the teen for a ways, honestly getting quite worried about his mental stability. "I'm not sure who, but I'm gauging about twenty men, all with bad intentions."

The first gunshot is so close both men can almost see it, the bullet entering into the picture on the other side of them, before the window shatters from behind and seven men roll through. "Alfred," England breathes, "go find your brother." The boy walks off, undisturbed by the current events as his father and uncle take the defensive position.

* * *

"Al?!" Matthew's voice a mixture of panic and drowsiness as he gets out of bed, wincing at the sound of gunshots. His door opens to almost slam into his brother. "Al, for God's sake-"

"We have company."

"Molly!" England yells, aiming a swift punch at the man in black before seeing him violently shoved aside by his husband, who covers his left.

Al is looking generally unperturbed by the turning of events, not even flinching as a bulllet enters the wall a few inches from his head, before his brother drags him back into the room, locking the door behind them.

Freaking hell.. here his heart was about to burst with adrenaline and Al is practical sleepwalking... Wait.. was he sleepwalking?!

Al gives him an "are you serious?" look before his head looks up to the pounding of the door as it is kicked open.

 _It's hard to tell with you lately.._ Matt shoots back as he pulled them away from the door.

Alfred says nothing to this, gaze still distant until the sound of his brother's hiss of pain at a guard twisting his arm behind his back.

* * *

One.

 _We're not showing them what to think._

Two.

 _We're just showing them how._

Three.

 _Showing them how showing them how showing them how showing them how showing them how showing them how showing them how-_

* * *

 _ **Marilyn.** _

* * *

The next few moments are a blur as his mind switches, movements seamless as he moves forward, ducking a kick to the head and dispatching one after the other. A gun is raised by one of them before Alfred grabs his wrist, snapping it sharply, and shooting him point blank in the middle of his forehead. The few left are subsequently taken down and he whrils around, gaze and gun steady as Matthew freezes with the guard holding him in a chokehold.

 _*Al..? Do you have a shot or not?*_

His eyes flicker to his brother for a moment, lips curling in a slight smile. "Close your eyes."

He hesitated, Al hasn't been the most stable as late.. but he had never meant him harm in that time either.. Matt closed his eyes praying he didn't go overboard.

He squeezes the trigger, watching him fall and staring blankly at the pool of blood coming closer to his feet before blinking and smiling at his brother. "You look better in red."

 _Al i swear I'm checking you in to the mental ward.._ Matt grumbles wiping the gore off his face the best he could. "Come on we can't stay in here now.. Maybe find the others or somewhere to hold out." Matt grabbed his brother's wrist pulling him along.

Before they took two steps, an explosion tore through the house, caving in the far wall where they had left Arthur fighting.

"Fuck.." Matt gripped his brother tight running over, looking for a way through.

The house was burning, smoke quickly choking what was left of the hall. Gunshots were still ringing outside. Matt shifted through the rubble, they needed a path out and fast. Another explosion shook the night, this time it was punctuated with a scream as someone was caught in the blast.

 _You could help you know!_ he snarls at his brother, shoving his body against another wall till it gave way.

America frowns in confusion as his brother drags him again. _Pourquoi? Daddy's taking care of the bullies._

The moment they stepped through, they were under heavy fire again, bullets tearing around them. The next snarl was a bit more inhuman than the last, Matt pulling them both down and over to cover.

Suddenly the gunfire stopped, the men screaming in panic instead. That lasted only a moment too before ending in a wet thud. He stood still just to be sure, after a moment of silence looking up.

"Boys?!" Al relaxes slightly at the familar sound of his England's voice, flanked by his siblings.

The three of them were splattered with blood, the Celts keeping watch over the yard. They looked deadly.

Al grins at his brother. "Calvary's home."

"We need to move, now," Iain muttered distractedly. "They're sending reinforcements from the south..."

Molly frowned. "Where's Francis?"

Matt pales, "Where was he last?"

The gunshot makes them jump, and it's then that they notice the last man standing fall to the ground before turning at the sight of Francis, face set in a scowl as he lowered the pistol. "Mon Dieu, I just wanted to have more than two hours of sleep, but _no_." he complains, granting a slight smile from his husband. "Where to next?"

Matt slumps softly, running a hand through his hair before wincing in disgust. "I guess I shouldn't be surprised in a family full of highlanders and pirates.."

"Get used to it, petunia," Iain checked everyone was accounted for before hearing them all outside. "We need to get our arses out of here. Nearest airport?"

"A mile from here, at the most." England gueses. "Check for the cars in the front to see if they're at least a bit useful. It's better walking until we freeze to death." He frowns at the burning house. "Shame. Such a lovely home. My apologizes, Molly."

She shrugged it off, refusing to think about it now. "I can rebuild. Right now we just need to stay alive."

Matt grabs onto his brother again, half worried of him wandering off as they moved along.

Their cars were trashed, but they did find one of the jeeps the soldiers came in. After a bit of speedy hotwiring, they were away.


End file.
